


Rose-Tinted Glasses

by theglitterati



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (if it's not clear this is endgame BokuAka), Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Bokuto Koutarou, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Recovery, Supportive Akaashi Keiji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: "Akaashi took out his laptop and opened Google. Into the search bar, he typed:how to help a friend in an abusive relationship."-Bokuto is in love with an abuser. Akaashi is in love with Bokuto.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 101
Kudos: 622





	1. Chapter 1

The first red flag didn’t look like one at all.

“We’re moving in together!” Bokuto announced. His arm stretched across the back of the booth, behind his girlfriend’s shoulders. Yuna was a foot shorter than Bokuto, with dyed blonde hair, but they wore matching grins.

“Wow.” Akaashi set his beer down on the table. He had nearly spilt it all over himself when Bokuto spoke. “That’s… a big deal.”

“It is!” Yuna agreed. “But when it’s the right person, you just know.” She smiled up at Bokuto, and he leaned down to kiss her. Akaashi averted his eyes.

He shared his side of the booth with Kuroo and Kenma, who was squished against the wall, playing a game on his Switch. “When are you planning on moving?” Kuroo asked.

“Next week! I’m just moving into Yuna’s place, so we don’t even have to hunt for an apartment!”

Kuroo’s mouth fell open. “Bokuto, we have three months left in our lease!”

Bokuto waved his arms. “Oh no, don’t worry, dude! I’m not going to leave you hanging. I’m gonna sublet my room. It should be easy to find someone—”

“That’s not really my point—”

“Maybe Kenma could live with you!” Yuna suggested. 

Kuroo snorted and rolled his eyes. “Hey.” He elbowed Kenma, who wasn’t paying attention, even though they were talking about him. “You wanna live with me?”

“I’d rather die.” Kenma had his own apartment, near the private art and technology school he went to. Most of it was taken up by a giant kotatsu, under which he could usually be found, curled up like a cat. It was much nicer than Kuroo and Bokuto’s place.

“I actually know someone who’s looking for a new apartment,” Akaashi said. One of his friends from class had mentioned wanting to move. 

“That’s awesome!” Bokuto said. “You’re the best, Akaashi!”

“Yeah, so helpful,” Yuna echoed. Akaashi heard her sarcasm, even if Bokuto didn’t.

Akaashi would never, ever say so to Bokuto’s face, but he didn’t like Yuna. Kuroo also didn’t like her, and he did say so, but Akaashi tried to be more polite. He treated her respectfully when they were forced to spend time together, and avoided her the rest of the time. But even with Kuroo being openly rude to her, and Kenma ignoring her completely, it was Akaashi, of all of Bokuto’s friends, that she seemed to dislike the most.

Akaashi had spent many nights wondering why that was. He had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with his sexuality. Kuroo was ostensibly straight, though he’d hit on anything that moved if it had a nice enough ass. Kenma, on the other hand, seemed uninterested in sex or romance (with, Akaashi had noticed, one small, red-headed exception). But Akaashi was gay, and with Bokuto being bisexual, he sometimes wondered if Yuna saw him as a threat.

There was also the fact that he’d been in love with Bokuto since his first year of high school, and everyone but Bokuto seemed to know it. That could also have been the issue.

Kuroo and Bokuto had started arguing. “Bro, you could have given me more notice.”

“I’m sorry. We only just decided today—”

Yuna interrupted him, leaning across the table. “He told you he’ll find a subletter. What’s the problem?”

Kuroo smirked like he’d be happy to tell her what the problem was. The bench underneath them shook; Kenma had kicked Kuroo under the table. “No problem,” he gritted out.

“Where is your new place?” Akaashi asked Bokuto. 

“Near Shibuya Station.”

“That’s pretty far away.” Kuroo and Bokuto’s apartment was only five minutes away from their school. Shibuya Station was at least thirty. “You’ll have to get up early for morning practice.”

“I know, but by the time I get there, I’ll already be warmed up! It’ll be great!”

“Right,” Akaashi said. Knowing how much of a morning person he was — not at all — Bokuto would be lucky if he got to practice at all.

“Koutarou, I’m going to the bathroom,” Yuna said. “Be right back.” She kissed him on the cheek before getting up to leave.

Kuroo leered at her as she went. “Dude, this is fucking nuts.”

“I know, right?!” Bokuto missed Kuroo’s meaning. “It’s crazy, but I'm really excited!”

“Crazy is the right word for—”

“We’re happy for you,” Akaashi cut in. Kuroo was going to make a mess if he kept talking. “But are you sure it’s not too soon? You’ve only been dating for five months.”

“No way,” Bokuto said. He frowned at Akaashi, puzzled. “Yuna’s amazing. Living with her is going to be so much fun!”

“Living with me isn’t fun?” Kuroo said.

“Of course it is, dude. I’m gonna miss you!”

“Maybe I’ll make Akaashi move in with me instead,” Kuroo spouted. “His friend can take his place, and he can have your old room, and we’ll have tons of fun without you.”

Kuroo’s pettiness aside, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Akaashi’s rent would go way down.

“Aw, no fair,” Bokuto whined.

“You’re the one who wants to leave and move in with your little—”

“Kuro,” Kenma warned him. “You’re being a jerk.”

“Fine.” Kuroo sat back and crossed his arms. “I hope you’re happy with her.” He dropped the attitude, smiling across the table. “Seriously. I really hope so.”

Bokuto smiled back. “Thanks, man.”

“I’m back!” Yuna slid into the booth, carrying a beer the size of her head. “I brought you this, babe.”

“You’re the best!” Bokuto held up his glass. “Let’s do a toast! To my beautiful, smart, awesome girlfriend, who I get to live with! Kanpai!”

Kenma ignored them, and Kuroo looked dubious, so Akaashi raised his own glass and clinked it against Bokuto’s and Yuna’s. Kuroo followed reluctantly.

“Kan-fuckin’-pai,” he muttered.

*

Kuroo’s suggestion that Akaashi move in with him became reality. Akaashi’s friend wasn’t interested in having a roommate, so Akaashi signed his own apartment over and moved into Bokuto’s old room. The three of them, plus Yuna, spent a long day moving Bokuto’s stuff to his new place. Yuna lived in a small, minimalist one-bedroom that was about to lose its simplicity. Bokuto wasn’t a big shopper, but he never threw anything away; his room was packed with volleyball memorabilia, dog-eared manga magazines, the occasional textbook, and stuff from his childhood. He got derailed several times while trying to pack, having found a middle-school yearbook, a shirt he hadn’t worn since high school, or, to Akaashi’s disgust, a grungy, half-eaten box of Pocky under the bed that he proceeded to finish off.

The next day, they moved Akaashi’s things. Yuna, mysteriously, was unavailable to help. Luckily, Akaashi’s old place was close by, and he, unlike Bokuto, was not a burgeoning hoarder. Once finished, they stood around in the room full of boxes, pretending like nothing momentous had changed.

“I guess I should go,” Bokuto said. “Yuna wants to get my stuff unpacked today.”

“Have fun at your new apartment, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said.

“Thanks. You guys have fun, too.” He went to the door and put on his shoes, looking a little wistful as he did.

“Oh, _we will,”_ Kuroo said. He saw Bokuto out. “So. Welcome.”

Akaashi looked around, taking the place in. The beat-up couch, the blank spaces on the walls where Bokuto’s posters had hung. The lingering smell of ramen and body spray. It already felt a little like home. “Thanks.”

Akaashi moved to the kitchen area, which was separated from the living room only by the countertop. Dirty dishes covered the entire surface. “Not to sound ungrateful, but are you always this bad at cleaning? I can deal with it; I just want to know what I’m getting myself into.” Akaashi was a not-so-secret neat freak, but he tried not to impose his obsessiveness on others.

Kuroo barked a laugh. “That’s mostly Bokuto’s mess. I’m surprisingly neat when there’s not a seven-foot-tall owl roosting in my apartment.” He joined Akaashi at the counter. “Wanna put some music on and clean up?”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

The only thing that could make it better would be if Bokuto was there, too.

*

“Ugh,” Kenma said. “This is further than my place.” His hair was glued to his forehead with sweat. They’d been walking for almost half an hour under the August sun.

“I know,” Kuroo said. “Has Bokuto been on time to practice?”

“Actually, he has,” Akaashi confirmed. He and Bokuto were both on the university volleyball team. Their earliest practices started at six a.m. Either Bokuto was getting up before the sun, or he was running the whole way to the gym.

“Huh.” Kuroo shuffled the cake box he was holding into his left hand and checked his phone. “I think it’s this one.” They were on their way to Bokuto’s new apartment, where he and Yuna were throwing a housewarming party. “These buildings all look the same.”

“They’re very… streamlined,” Akaashi said. He held the door for Kuroo and Kenma.

“The word you’re looking for is sterile.”

Kenma rested against the wall inside the lobby. “At least there’s air-conditioning.”

Kuroo pushed the elevator call button. “I wonder how much of a mess Bokuto’s made of Yuna’s place by now.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

They rode the elevator to the tenth floor. The apartment was easy to find from there; a pile of party guests’ shoes sat outside the door. They slipped their own off, Kenma already pulling out his Switch.

Bokuto answered quickly when they knocked. “You guys made it!”

“Barely,” Kenma muttered, quiet enough that only Akaashi heard.

“Welcome to my new place!”

They followed Bokuto inside. Kuroo struck up a conversation with the prettiest of Yuna’s friends and Kenma found somewhere to hide, leaving Akaashi alone with Bokuto.

He looked around while Bokuto talked about something that happened at practice the day before. The apartment looked… very much like the last time he saw it. Same pictures of flowers framed on the wall, same neatly-organized bookshelves. There wasn’t a single dirty dish in the sink, although, Akaashi allowed, they were hosting a party right now.

Bokuto finished his story and called for Yuna. “Babe, my friends are here!”

“Shh. Not so loud, Koutarou.” She appeared behind him, wearing a long, flowy dress. “Hello, Akaashi. Glad you could make it.” She didn’t even pretend to smile.

“Uh, hey. The place looks great.”

“Wanna see the rest?” Bokuto asked.

“Sure.” Akaashi was glad for any excuse to get away from Yuna.

Bokuto showed him the bathroom, which was as sparkling clean as the kitchen, then the bedroom. It too looked exactly as it had last time. It was like no one but Yuna lived here at all.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s… nice,” Akaashi said, “but, Bokuto-san, where’s all your stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“Your clothes, your posters, your mangas, all the knickknacks you had…”

“Oh,” Bokuto said. “Well, my clothes are in the closet. The posters and stuff… I got rid of some things. It’s a small place, you know? There’s not a lot of room, and I had a lot of stuff.”

“It seems like you have hardly any stuff now,” Akaashi pointed out

“Yeah. It’s for the better, though, right? It was all junk anyway.” Junk he’d spent hours reminiscing about the week before. “Let’s go back out, okay? I don’t wanna hide from my own party!”

Akaashi followed him into the living room. Aside from Kuroo and Kenma, he didn’t recognize anyone. 

“When are the guys from the team getting here?” They were as close with their university teammates as they had been with the Fukurodani guys. They usually went to parties as a pack, showing up and wreaking havoc on everyone’s eardrums.

“Yeah, where’s the boys?” Kuroo called out. Judging by the distance Yuna’s friend was putting between them, Kuroo had struck out with her.

“It’s just us tonight,” Bokuto said. “We wanted to have a nice, quiet party.”

“That’s kind of hard when you keep yelling,” Yuna said.

“Sorry, babe.” Bokuto sat down next to her on the couch. Akaashi joined Kuroo on the floor across the table.

“Most of Koutarou’s friends are pretty rowdy,” Yuna explained to her friends.

The girl Kuroo had been hitting on pointed at Kenma. “He doesn’t seem rowdy.” Kenma sat in the corner playing video games, as active as a houseplant.

“There’s an exception to every rule,” Kuroo said with a wink. It didn’t win him favour with her.

As the party went on, Akaashi couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. An objective observer would have seen a dozen college kids hanging out, laughing and having a good time. But if that was true, why did he feel so uncomfortable? And why was Bokuto’s smile so forced?

It got worse when they brought out the cake.

It was a huge cheesecake from Bokuto’s favourite bakery, fluffy and jiggly and delicious-smelling. Kuroo had brought it as a peace offering for acting bitchy about Bokuto moving out. Even Kenma perked up when he saw it, eyeing it like he was trying to figure how to get a slice without having to talk to anyone. Yuna cut it, doling out equally-thick, bouncing portions for each guest. But when she got to Bokuto, her egalitarianism waned. She handed him a slice less than half the size of Akaashi’s.

“Hey! Why’s mine so tiny?”

Yuna simpered at him. “How many beers have you had tonight, sweetie?”

“Only two.” Bokuto always looked at the floor when he lied. Akaashi hoped Yuna didn’t know that.

“That’s probably enough carbs for today. Your nutritionist would agree with me!”

The team nutritionist was a free-wheeling, middle-aged woman who encouraged them to eat with their hearts and respect their cravings. She referred to Bokuto as “a growing boy,” even though he was twenty-one. “I’m on the team, too,” Akaashi argued. “Why is my slice so big?”

Yuna locked eyes with him, her mouth curling. “Because when you’re a benchwarmer, it doesn’t matter what you eat.”

Bokuto laughed, then realized what she had said and went quiet. Akaashi waited. Was he not going to say anything to her? Kuroo, too, watched Bokuto with interest. Bokuto shoved a huge bite of cake into his mouth, ending the conversation before it began.

The party went on around them, one of Yuna’s friends babbling about something, but Akaashi’s bad feeling came back stronger than before. He stood up. “Bokuto-san, can you show me where to get a drink?”

“Of course!” Bokuto leapt up, leaving his sad piece of cake behind, and brought Akaashi into the kitchen. Akaashi felt Yuna’s glare on his back as they left.

“The fridge is over here,” Bokuto said, “We have beer, juice—”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Oh.” Bokuto turned around, a worried look on his face. “Is this about what Yuna said? Because she was kidding, I promise.”

“I don’t care about that. I—” Akaashi realized he was about to say _I care about you,_ and stopped. Instead, he said, “Did you want more cake?” 

He had other questions, too. _Why aren’t your friends here? Why does it look like you’ve never set foot in this apartment?_ But he waited to see what Bokuto would say.

He stretched his hands over his head. “No, Yuna was right. I’ve had a lot of beer, and I’ll feel like crap tomorrow if I have cake, too.”

“But, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi protested. “You love cheesecake.”

“Nah. It’s only okay.” Bokuto picked at a loose tile on the wall, the only flaw Akaashi had seen in the entire apartment. “I’m kinda sick of it.”

It was so convincing. Bokuto was a terrible liar, but if Akaashi didn’t know him, he would have believed him completely. 

Then it hit him. Bokuto wasn’t lying. He believed what he was saying.

And things were much, much worse than Akaashi thought.

“Trying to steal my boyfriend, Keiji-kun?” Akaashi jumped. Yuna stood behind him, a fake smile plastered on her face.

“Just making sure he’s enjoying his new place,” Akaashi said coolly.

“I am!” Bokuto glanced at his girlfriend.

“Well, of course, babe. You have the best roommate ever!” She pushed past Akaashi and pressed Bokuto up against the counter. “And so do I.” She kissed him, obnoxiously enough that it was obvious she was trying to scare Akaashi away.

She only gave up after a full minute passed and Akaashi didn’t leave. “Kou-kun, can we talk alone for a sec?” 

Bokuto was still a little stunned from the kiss. “Do you mind?” he asked Akaashi. “I’ll be right out.”

Akaashi could argue with Yuna, but he wouldn’t fight Bokuto. “Not at all,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. He went back to the living room and sat next to Kuroo, who had given up on socializing and was playing a game on his phone. He looked like Kenma.

Bokuto and Yuna returned a few minutes later, both giggling. The perfect picture of a happy couple. But Bokuto was quiet for the rest of the night, and his small piece of cake went untouched.

The guests all left at ten, ridiculously early for a Bokuto party. Akaashi pretended to take a long time tying his shoes so they wouldn’t have to ride down with Yuna’s friends.

As soon as the elevator doors closed on the three of them, Akaashi rounded on Kuroo and Kenma. “Okay, what the hell was that? Did you hear the way she spoke to him?”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Are you just noticing now that Yuna sucks? ‘Cause I’ve been saying that since their second date.”

“It’s not just that. Bokuto doesn’t question her at all. He does whatever she tells him to.”

“He’s trying to be a good boyfriend.” Kuroo leaned back against the wall. “Must be hard, when he’s dating a demon like her.”

That wasn’t right, either. Bokuto wasn’t feeding her grapes or rubbing her feet or anything. He just… wasn’t acting like himself. At all. But Kuroo didn’t seem to have anything to add, and Kenma just shrugged. Was Akaashi the only one who saw it?

He spent the long walk home fuming and was still pissed when he and Kuroo entered their apartment. Kuroo put the cheesecake in the fridge — Bokuto had insisted they take the leftovers as a thank you — and collapsed on the couch, turning on the TV. Akaashi left him there and went to lie in his new bed.

It had been Bokuto’s bed first. He didn’t need it when he moved, and Akaashi’s old furniture belonged to his landlord, so he inherited it with the room. The sheets had been washed, but a few of the pillows still held on to Bokuto’s scent, hair gel and hardwood floors. Akaashi breathed it in, thinking of better days, when that smell incited lust and yearning in him rather than worry.

He stared up at the ceiling, wishing he had never left Bokuto in that apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

After he moved out, Akaashi didn’t see Bokuto as much as he used to. When Bokuto and Kuroo lived together, Akaashi had been at their apartment every other day. But Bokuto mostly stayed home now, saying he had plans with Yuna, or that he was studying.

“Studying?” Kuroo said, showing Akaashi a text from Bokuto, cancelling their plans. “Since when does Bokuto study?”

Akaashi shrugged. There was something going on with Bokuto, something bad. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The only time Akaashi could reliably see Bokuto was at volleyball practice. Their university recruited Bokuto at the end of high school and made him a starting player in his first year. He was the star of the team, just like at Fukurodani, pumping everyone else up with his enthusiasm. He was more mature than in high school, too; his mood swings on the court became less and less frequent. Akaashi was proud to be on his team again.

Unlike Bokuto, Akaashi didn’t get a sports scholarship. He made the team through open tryouts, and he suspected it was because Bokuto, then a second year, put in a good word for him. Yuna wasn’t wrong when she called Akaashi a benchwarmer: he was on the second string, the backup-setter’s backup. He only played in official games when someone else was sick, and, honestly, he was lucky to get that opportunity. There were other setters on the team who were much better than him, but he was the only one who’d played with Bokuto for four years, and that made him an asset.

What Yuna did get wrong was thinking that being a benchwarmer was a bad thing. Akaashi was content with his spot. It came with all the fun of being on a team, especially a team with Bokuto, and none of the pressure. He could take it easy at practice, do his readings for class and watch Bokuto fly. Afterwards, they’d practice spiking, just the two of them, or play two-on-two in the park on days when Kenma could be convinced to team up with Kuroo. Akaashi was happy.

Until Bokuto ended up on the bench beside him. They were at an early practice a few weeks after the party. Bokuto’s punctuality was slipping; he had barely made it on time that day. His hair stuck out at strange angles — he tended to fist it into clumps when he was anxious — and dark bags sagged under his eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto just grunted.

Akaashi didn’t watch much of the beginning of practice, taking his spot on the sidelines after their warmup. Bokuto had come to practice tired before; he’d be fine.

But he wasn’t. Akaashi started paying attention after their coach yelled at Bokuto three times in ten minutes. Bokuto played poorly, missing easy sets and getting blocked out by their team members playing opposite him. After a crappy serve that lost his side the set, Coach told him to take a break.

“Wake him up, Akaashi,” the coach said. Even here, he was Bokuto’s hype man.

Bokuto crumpled down next to him, panting. Akaashi passed him his own water bottle.

“Thanks.” Bokuto guzzled it, droplets running down the sides of his mouth.

Normally, such a favour would earn Akaashi a _you’re the coolest!_ Or something similar. “You really are exhausted, aren’t you?”

Bokuto wiped his face with a towel and passed the bottle back to Akaashi. “Yeah.”

“Do you feel sick? Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

“No, I’m okay. I was just up really late.”

“Doing what?” The second the words left Akaashi’s mouth, he realized he might not want to know the answer.

“Studying,” Bokuto said tonelessly.

“Seriously? Since when have you become so scholarly, Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi expected him to laugh, or make a joke. But he just said, “I dunno.”

“Do you have an early midterm or something?” They were only two weeks into the fall semester. Most people were enjoying the last days of summer before buckling down.

“No, but my grades were crappy last semester. I didn’t get anything above a B.”

Something felt wrong, the same way it had at the party. “But you almost never get grades above a B,” Akaashi said.

He didn’t mean any offense by it. Bokuto’s grades had been solid Bs and Cs since high school, and he had never given a shit. Unlike Akaashi and Kuroo, who chose their university for its academic reputation, Bokuto was here to play volleyball, and play it well. His sports science degree would look good when he retired and became a coach or trainer or whatever, but it was just a backup plan. Bokuto had buckets of talent; it was impossible that he wouldn’t go pro when he graduated. Unless he kept playing like he did today.

“Bokuto-san, is there some reason you’re suddenly focusing on school?” Akaashi asked. “It’s not a bad thing, but it is different.”

“I dunno. Yuna says I should work harder, if I want to get a job—”

“‘Yuna says?’” Akaashi repeated. He couldn’t help himself. “Did she tell you that you have to get better grades?”

“No, obviously not. I just don’t want to fail after we graduate—”

“So she told you that you’ll fail if you don’t study harder.” Akaashi’s tone was sharp. He didn’t like hearing the word _fail_ come out of Bokuto’s mouth.

Bokuto scrubbed a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. “Look, I’m not smart like you and Kuroo, okay?” 

“Clearly Yuna isn’t, either, since she thought it would be good for your future to make you stay up all night and screw up at practice.”

Bokuto gaped at him. “Akaashi, why are you being like this?”

“Because I’m worried about you, Bokuto-san!” Akaashi drummed his fingers on his thighs. This was not where he wanted to have this conversation, ten feet away from their team, but now that he’d started, it all came pouring out. “I don’t like the way she talks to you! She’s always putting you down, making you change things about yourself. She—”

“She’s what?” Bokuto said loudly. A few of their teammates looked over.

Akaashi wasn’t sure what he had been about to say. She’s bad for you? She _sucks_ , to use Kuroo’s word?

She doesn’t treat you as well as I would?

“She’s my _girlfriend,_ Akaashi,” Bokuto finished for him, when he didn’t answer. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t insult her.”

“Bokuto-san, I’m—”

“Hey, Coach!” Bokuto jogged onto the court. “I feel better now. Put me back in.”

*

Bokuto didn’t text Akaashi for a week after their conversation. They saw each other at practice, but Bokuto was reserved with him, not teasing or joking around with him like usual. 

Though he wasn’t talking to him, Akaashi thought about Bokuto constantly. He couldn’t figure out why he had changed so drastically. Well, he could— it was obviously about Yuna. But Bokuto had had partners before, both male and female, and none of them ever affected him like this.

Akaashi wondered if this wasn’t just jealousy on his part. Maybe Bokuto was perfectly happy with Yuna, and the only reason Akaashi didn’t like it was because he wanted Bokuto to be with him instead. But he was sure he wasn’t imagining things. Kuroo noticed the changes, too, though his concern focused more on calling Yuna a bitch than helping.

Akaashi knew this much: it was more than a bad girlfriend or a bad relationship. Something bad was going on, and Bokuto was getting hurt.

He got his answer in a British Literature class, of all places.

“Heathcliff is abusive!” the girl beside him in the seminar screeched. “He’s totally abusive to Cathy!”

“You can’t just say that about every book,” the guy on Akaashi’s other side said. Akaashi wished he’d chosen a different seat. “Last week you said Mr. Rochester was abusive, too.”

“He kept his wife locked in the attic!”

Akaashi tuned them out. He had only read half of _Wuthering Heights_ anyway, having been too busy worrying about Bokuto. But the word stuck in his head. Abuse. Was that what was happening? Was Bokuto being abused?

“Abused?” Kuroo said skeptically, when Akaashi told him about his theory and the incident at practice. “You think she’s, like, hitting him?”

“What? No—”

“‘Cause she’s like, what? Forty centimetres shorter than him? I’m pretty sure Bokuto could take her.”

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t think she’s hurting him physically.” Would Akaashi know, though, if she was? Would Bokuto tell him? “I think she’s messing with his head. Making him do things he doesn’t want to do, and convincing him it was his idea in the first place.”

“Maybe…” Kuroo said. “But I don’t know if that’s really abuse. It sounds more like he’s just whipped.”

“It’s more than that. I know it.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Kuroo continued. “I cannot stand Yuna. But I can’t see Bokuto putting up with that. If things were that bad, he’d leave. If he wants to stay home all the time studying, then… that’s his choice. I just hope he figures out how awful she is soon.”

“Yeah, me too,” Akaashi muttered. He wasn’t getting through to Kuroo. How could he, when he barely knew what he was talking about himself? He needed to do more research.

He went into his bedroom, took out his laptop, and opened Google. Into the search bar, he typed: _how to help a friend in an abusive relationship._

*

Three hours and an Internet history bursting at the seams later, Akaashi texted Bokuto. _I’m sorry about the other day. Can we meet tomorrow after your class?_

_Can’t gotta study_

Akaashi frowned at the phone. He felt like calling Bokuto and telling him to skip it, and saying a few choice words about his girlfriend while he was at it. But the first rule Akaashi had learned today was not to trash-talk the abuser. Insulting Yuna to Bokuto would only make it easier for her to distance him from Akaashi. So, he replied: _Can we study together?_

Bokuto’s reply took a long time to come, long enough that Akaashi wondered if he might not answer at all. But his phone lit up with a message: _okay_

They met at a café near campus. It was a quiet place, with pine tables and leaf-green walls. Akaashi ordered a green tea latte and a small bowl of ice cream. Bokuto got coffee, black, and nothing to eat. Akaashi took two spoons, just in case.

They sat at a table in the back. Bokuto pulled out his books right away, but Akaashi stopped him. “Wait. I need to say something.”

Bokuto froze. His expression was deeply suspicious.

“I’m really sorry about what I said last week, Bokuto-san. It was not my place to say what’s best for you, or to say bad things about someone you love. I was just worried because of how that practice went.”

Tentatively, Bokuto relaxed. “Sorry I got so mad.”

“It’s okay. Really,” Akaashi added, because Bokuto still didn’t look convinced. “You can get your books now.”

Bokuto piled his textbooks on the table while Akaashi opened his laptop. He had an essay on Soseki’s views on human nature he could work on, but mostly he just wanted to hang out with Bokuto and make sure he was doing okay.

It became evident, though, that Bokuto was not okay. He had always been fidgety, but after half an hour of studying, he’d dropped his pen three times. His right leg bounced incessantly under the table, and he was seriously going to go bald soon if he kept pulling at his hair. After he dropped his pen a fourth time, Akaashi shut his laptop. “Are you having trouble with something?”

Bokuto blinked, like he’d forgotten Akaashi was there. “Uh, I can’t figure this question out.”

“Show me.” Akaashi wasn’t sure he could help, but Bokuto spun the book around. It was physics, questions about motion and energy. “You’re taking physics?”

“I have to take one class in it for my degree.”

“Ah.” Akaashi hadn’t taken physics since high school, but the work was familiar enough. He studied the problem and found Bokuto’s mistake — he’d used the wrong formula at one point. Akaashi wrote out the right answer, went over it until he was satisfied Bokuto understood, and gave him back his notebook. He leaned back, feeling pleased that he’d done something useful for his friend.

Bokuto buried his face in his hands. “Fuck. I’m an idiot.”

“What?! No, you’re not!”

Bokuto peered up at him through his fingers. “You’re a year below me, not even taking this class, and you figured it out! I go every week, and nothing makes sense to me. I’m so stupid.” 

This from the man who, the year before, went out the night before an exam to get drunk with Kuroo and his cousins on a boat, yelling, “you don’t need good grades to hit tosses!” at the horizon. This was not him talking.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said gently, “having trouble understanding something doesn’t mean you’re stupid. Look how hard you’re trying. That’s not stupid at all.”

“It doesn’t matter how hard I try,” Bokuto argued. “I’m just fucking dumb, and—”

He broke off. His phone vibrated on the table, then vibrated again.

“Sorry, one sec.”

Bokuto tapped out a reply and set the phone back down. It buzzed again immediately. He glanced at Akaashi, then texted back. This time, it stopped.

Akaashi bit his tongue. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Before they moved in together, Bokuto and Yuna texted constantly, about seemingly nothing at all. Getting his attention was like trying to talk to Kenma when he was in the middle of a game. Akaashi hoped the texting would stop now that they lived together, but it didn’t.

He wasn’t going to say anything about it. But Bokuto kept staring at his phone, like he was wondering when it would go off again. “Is something wrong?” Akaashi asked. “That was Yuna, right? Is everything okay?”

Bokuto pursed his lips, thinking.

“She texts me a lot. Wanting to make sure I’m… wanting to know where I am and stuff.” Akaashi nodded. “I’m sorry if it’s annoying. I could, uh…” He had been about to suggest turning it off, but they both knew he couldn’t do that.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me,” Akaashi said. “But does it bother you?”

“Sometimes,” Bokuto admitted. “It’s just… I feel like sometimes she thinks I’m lying about where I am. Which I would never do! So… yeah.”

Akaashi folded his hands on the table. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. That sounds tough.”

“Yeah…” Bokuto was still focused on the phone.

“Why don’t we take a break? We can study more in a bit. I’ll help you with your homework if I can, too. Just promise you won’t call yourself stupid anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” Bokuto agreed. He gave Akaashi a tiny smile. Akaashi missed his old one, but this was better than nothing.

“I want to eat this ice cream before it melts. Do you want a spoonful?”

“Sure.” Akaashi gave Bokuto the extra spoon, and he took a bite. “It’s good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Akaashi scrolled through social media on his phone, pretending not to notice as Bokuto finished the whole bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you catch any typos! I'm terrible at noticing them.


	3. Chapter 3

Akaashi tried to make plans with Bokuto once a week, even if it was just to study. It went well, for a while. Bokuto seemed happier. Then he started cancelling. 

_ Gonna study at home today instead _

_ Got a test tomorrow so I got a lot to do _

_ Are you sure? _ Akaashi texted.  _ I can help you. _

_ Nah lol don’t wanna bore you _

Akaashi didn’t push. It would only upset Bokuto.

_ Okay, _ he wrote back.  _ I understand if you want to stay home. But you’re not boring, Bokuto-san. _

He got back a smiley face, and nothing else.

“Bokuto can’t come out and play today?” Kuroo asked. “You’re glaring at your phone. Did Mommy Dearest say he has to stay home and do chores?”

Akaashi was not a fan of Kuroo’s new nickname for Yuna. “Don’t. We’ve talked about this.”

Kuroo sighed. “Even when it’s just us?”

“Even when it’s just us.”

When Akaashi got home from his first study session with Bokuto, he sent Kuroo links to the most useful websites he’d found and watched until Kuroo read all of them. He gave Kuroo the same rules he’s given himself: No insulting Yuna in front of Bokuto. No insulting Yuna to her face. No making him feel guilty for how she treated him. 

Kuroo listened, and tried. He really did. But he did not have Akaashi’s patience.

The first problem came up a few weeks before Kuroo’s birthday. Yuna, as Bokuto explained on one of the rare times he stopped by their apartment, had bought a weekend trip to Itoigawa for the two of them. It was their first trip as a couple, and it was important to her. 

“And?” Kuroo said, when Bokuto finished explaining. “We’ve had plans for my party for months. How did you miss that it was the same weekend?”

Their plans included mostly the same things they always did on weekends, but with more people. Some of Kuroo’s friends from Nekoma were coming to visit, as was Tsukishima, who’s own university volleyball team happened to be playing in Tokyo that day. Bokuto had been talking about all the pranks he was going to play on Tsukki for months. Plus, Kuroo’s birthday was the one day of the year Kenma could be convinced to drink alcohol, which was always fun to watch.

“I’m really, really sorry. She bought the tickets as a surprise. When I told her, she checked if she could return them so we could go another weekend, but they were non-refundable.”

Akaashi didn’t believe that, but he didn’t say anything. Kuroo did. “Sure they were.”

“What?”

“Kuroo,” Akaashi warned.

Kuroo ignored him. “You really think it was a coincidence? She already talked you out of having a party for your own birthday. But she can’t stop me from having one, so I guess she’ll just stop you from going to it instead, right?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Bokuto said. “She didn’t know your birthday was coming up, I swear.”

Kuroo must have gotten tired of Akaashi glaring at him, because he shut up. “Whatever. Let me know if you change your mind.” He stomped into his room and slammed the door, leaving Bokuto and Akaashi alone.

“It’s fucked up, is what it is,” Kuroo said later, once Bokuto left — and he didn’t stay long after that. “She’s controlling his whole life. You were right, Akaashi. She’s abusive.”

“I’m glad we agree about that,” Akaashi said, “but getting angry with him is not going to help. He loves her—”

“God knows why.”

Akaashi searched for a way to explain. “Imagine I came up to you one day and started shouting about how terribly Kenma treats you.”

“Kenma’s not my girlfriend.”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if I was right, you would feel obligated to defend him, because you love him. Bokuto feels the same way, except probably worse, because he knows the things we’re saying are true and he can’t do anything about it.”

“Does he know, though? That he’s being abused?”

Akaashi sank down into the couch. “I think he does. I don’t think he’d call it abuse, but he knows that the way she’s acting is wrong. It’s going to take time. He probably thinks she’ll change, or thinks it will hurt her too much if he leaves her.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Well, that’s Bokuto. He’s kind to a fault.” Akaashi sighed. “Please try to be supportive, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He lasted three weeks, until Yuna crossed the line.

They were at the izakaya around the corner with Kenma on Saturday, waiting for Bokuto, who was running late. He was supposed to meet them to celebrate Kuroo’s birthday, to make up for missing the real party the next weekend. Akaashi finally caught sight of his tall frame in the entranceway.

He clapped a hand over his mouth. Kenma let his Switch fall to the table with a clunk. Kuroo, thankfully, was in the bathroom.

Bokuto’s gorgeous, ridiculous hair had been shorn off, to a length shorter than Akaashi’s. It was now entirely black; the silver streaks didn’t survive the cut. Akaashi tried to find a shred of Bokuto’s style in it — maybe there was an undercut, or some fading, or something. But there wasn’t. It was just… bland.

Bokuto had been smiling, but it promptly disappeared when he saw their faces. “I cut my hair,” he said pointlessly.

Akaashi goggled at him. Kenma picked up his Switch and stared hard at its blessedly-distracting screen.

Bokuto sat down next to Akaashi. “Is it bad?”

“No,” Akaashi lied. “No, it’s—”

“What the fuck happened to you!?”

Kuroo had returned from the bathroom. Akaashi was almost, almost glad that he didn’t have to answer Bokuto.

“Haircut?” Bokuto said weakly.

Kuroo dropped into the booth in front of them. “You look like a salaryman.”

“Um, yeah… happy birthday.” Bokuto pushed a wrapped present across the table.

“Thanks.” Kuroo shoved the gift aside. “Why did you do it?”

“What?”

“Your hair. Why did you cut it?” He leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. He had a nasty look on his face, one Akaashi had seen before, but never directed at Bokuto. “I mean, you’ve had the same haircut since high school. Why now?”

“I thought it would be a nice change.” Bokuto glanced sideways at Akaashi.

“Kuroo,” Akaashi said seriously. “Stop it.”

Kuroo shook his head. “Bokuto, tell me why.”

“I just… I don’t know?” Bokuto sputtered. “I’m getting older, right? I’m never gonna get a job with my stupid hair, and Yuna said—”

Kuroo smacked the table, so hard it made Kenma jump. “So it was Yuna’s idea! Yuna tells you to cut your hair off, and you do it.”

“That’s not what happened—”

“Yuna tells you not to come to my birthday party, she tells you that you can’t eat cake, she tells you to MOVE OUT OF OUR FUCKING APARTMENT, and you do it!” He was yelling, and even in the noisy izakaya, people stared. “If Yuna told you to drop out of school, would you do that, too? What if she told you to quit volleyball? Or if she told you not to be friends with us anymore?” 

Kuroo stood, his hands clenched on the edge of the table. Kenma yanked on his sleeve, but he wouldn’t sit down.

Akaashi shifted closer to Bokuto, trying to put himself between them. “Kuroo, we’ve talked about this.”

“No, you’ve talked, Akaashi. I tried it your way, but it’s not working, and I’m sick of it! Bokuto, this is so fucked up!” His voice wavered, and he sat down, though his fervour didn’t dissipate. “You’re not acting like yourself anymore. Yuna’s fucking nuts, dude, and she’s making you change everything about yourself. I’m worried about you. We all are. Why can’t you see what’s going on?”

Akaashi thought Bokuto would yell at him. He hoped he would. It’s what he would have done in the old days, caused a scene until he and Kuroo got kicked out. Then they’d make up on the walk home and be laughing together again in an hour. But he didn’t. He just sat there and took it. Akaashi could feel him shaking.

“Please don’t insult her,” Bokuto said.

“Fine.” Kuroo threw up his hands. “I’m done insulting her. I’m done watching her abuse you, too. You know that’s what she’s doing, right? She’s fucking abusive. And I don’t want any part in it.”

“Kuroo!” Akaashi yelled. He was going to kill him.

“Don’t want any part of what?” Bokuto asked.

“All of it. Watching her treat you like shit. Watching you accept it. It’s her or me, dude, and I already know who you’ve picked.”

“You don’t mean that,” Akaashi said desperately. “He doesn’t mean that—”

But Bokuto was already gone, heading for the door.

Akaashi chased him through the bar and halfway to the train station. “Bokuto-san, wait!” 

Bokuto didn’t stop walking. “It’s fine, Akaashi. Just go back.”

“It’s not fine!” He sprinted ahead and caught Bokuto by the arm. “I’m so sorry for what Kuroo said. It was completely inappropriate.”

Bokuto shook under Akaashi’s hand. His eyes darted around wildly, like he was looking for something he couldn’t find. “I can’t be around him. I can’t—”

“It’s okay.” Akaashi put his hands on Bokuto’s shoulders. He made Bokuto keep eye contact with him until the shaking stopped. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll talk to Kuroo,” Akaashi said. They both knew it was useless, but he needed to say something. “And I’ll see you at volleyball practice in the morning, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to walk you to the train station?”

Bokuto shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I… wanna go alone.”

“Will you text me when you get home so I know you’re okay?”

“Sure.” Bokuto turned away. He paused. “Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Do you like my hair?” he said quietly. “I know it’s different, but—”

“I think you look nice no matter what haircut you have,” Akaashi said, “but it doesn’t matter what I think. Do you like it, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto made a tiny, noncommittal gesture. “Goodnight, Akaashi.”

Akaashi watched him walk away. He walked back to the izakaya, cursing Kuroo the entire way. When he got there, Kuroo sat at their table by himself, ripping up a paper napkin into pieces.

“Kenma bailed. He said I was being belligerent.”

“You were.”

Kuroo let the napkin fall from his hands. “I fucked up.”

“Yep.”

“He’s never going to talk to me again, is he?”

Akaashi shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

*

Bokuto came to practice with darker bags under his eyes than usual the next day. They were all the more obvious juxtaposed with the new darkness of his hair.

Of course the team couldn’t let it go. They took one look at him when he came into the locker room and burst out laughing. “Bokuto, where’s the rest of your head?” one of the guys yelled.

Bokuto would normally have laughed it off, but with what happened the night before, he didn’t. He went all weird and quiet, in a way that Akaashi hadn’t seen for a long time.

Twenty minutes into practice, he had a classic, high-school Bokuto meltdown on the court.

Coach told him off for some minor misstep, so he spiked his next ball into the antenna on the side of the net instead of over it. That got him yelled at again, and he yelled right back at the coach, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Bokuto, was that hair where your brain was stored? Get your shit together!”

He didn’t, and he ended up on the bench next to Akaashi five minutes later.

“Do you want to talk about—”

Bokuto slumped forward, head between his knees. Akaashi settled for patting him on the back.

He was benched at the next two practices as well, and at the third, he wasn’t put in the starting line-up for their practice match. He didn’t seem to mind. On the second day, he fell asleep on the bench.

It wasn’t until the end of the third practice that he spoke up. “Akaashi?”

“Yes?”

“What’s the word for when you wanna ask a question about something, but it’s something you made up in your head?”

“Hypothetical?” Akaashi guessed.

“Yes! That’s it. Okay, so, hypothetically, if you sent me, like, a really bad toss, and I yelled at you, like really yelled, like not joking or anything… would you be mad at me?”

“Probably,” Akaashi said slowly. “But I think I’d be more hurt than angry.”

“What if I said that, if your next toss wasn’t better, we couldn’t play together anymore?”

“I would be very upset, because I want to keep playing with you. Plus, sometimes tosses are bad, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Your tosses are never bad!” Bokuto protested.

Akaashi laughed. “Sometimes they are. But it’s okay. Bad tosses don’t make you a bad person. I know you know that, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto grunted in agreement, but he seemed to be somewhere else, thinking hard.

“Can I ask you something now?” Akaashi said.

“Um, sure.”

“How would it make you feel to say something like that to me?”

Bokuto waved his hands. “I would never do that! It was hypothetical, I promise!”

“I know it was. Why would you never do that?”

“Because you’re my best friend. And you’re… you’re good, Akaashi.”

Akaashi felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. “You’re good, too, Bokuto-san.” He looked out at the court; practice was winding up. “Hey, do you want me to set for you? I don’t have to be home right away.”

Bokuto’s face fell. “I want to, but I can’t. I have to pack for the trip tomorrow.”

“That’s okay. I hope you have fun. Send me pictures if you see anything cool, okay?”

“Okay.” Bokuto studied him for a moment, then pulled Akaashi into a tight hug. Akaashi hugged him back, surprised to feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

*

Objectively, Kuroo’s birthday party was super fun. There was beer, karaoke, takeout, and the entire 2012 Nekoma Boys Volleyball Club starting lineup. Tsukishima came as promised and destroyed everyone at the party in Mario Kart. Kenma, lightweight that he was, got drunk off his ass, gesturing wildly as he told some story to Lev. It seemed like everyone was having a good time except for Kuroo and Akaashi.

Around eleven, Kuroo started drowning his Bokuto-related sorrows in alcohol, probably hoping to get wasted enough to forget that Bokuto had left his texts on read for a week. Kai and Yamamoto did a decent job distracting him for a while, but his mopiness soon threatened to bring everyone’s mood down.

Akaashi coped by retreating to his room as soon as was socially acceptable. He was still nursing his first beer, and he didn’t have the heart to join in the partying. It wasn’t the same without Bokuto.

He wondered what Bokuto was doing right now. It was too cold in Itoigawa this time of year for swimming. Maybe he was taking a walk along the beach, or having a drink with Yuna. Maybe he was having sex. Akaashi shoved that thought out of his mind.

He wondered, for the hundredth time, if he was doing the right thing, being supportive of Bokuto rather than telling him to leave like Kuroo did. It felt so wrong to stand by and let him get hurt. But at the same time, Bokuto needed to make his own decisions. Forcing him to leave her would be an attempt to control him, which would make him just as bad as Yuna. Wouldn’t it?

Akaashi didn’t have time to think of an answer. His phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID and nearly dropped the phone trying to answer as fast as he could. “Bokuto-san? ...Bokuto-san, are you there?”

“A-Akaashi?” Akaashi’s heart broke when he heard the crack in his voice and realized Bokuto was crying.

“I’m here.”

Bokuto coughed into the phone. “How’s the party?”

“Pretty terrible. I’m not having any fun without you.” He didn’t mention Kuroo. The line was quiet, except for a faint sound that might have been the ocean. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m outside. I walked down the beach. Yuna’s asleep.”

“Is it nice there?”

“Yeah.” 

A minute passed, then two. Bokuto didn’t say anything else.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Akaashi said. “I’ll stay on the phone—”

“I hate my haircut.”.

Akaashi blinked. “What?”

“You asked me if I liked my haircut, and I don’t. I hate it. I don’t look like me. I don’t feel like me. Fuck, I’m… I feel so pathetic.”

“You are not pathetic, Bokuto-san. Not at all.” He mumbled something Akaashi couldn’t hear. “What?”

“I said, then why am I still dating Yuna? I’d have to be pathetic to stay with her.”

Akaashi took a deep breath. “I don’t think you’re pathetic. I think you’re very brave.”

“I have to break up with her.” Bokuto’s voice wavered. “But I don’t know if I can.”

“I’ve known you for a long time, Bokuto-san, and everything you’ve put your mind to, you’ve been able to do.”

“I don’t—” Bokuto faltered. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“You can stay with us. Whatever you need, we’ll help.”

“What about Kuroo?”

“Kuroo is currently weeping into his beer about how much he misses you in front of all of his guests,” Akaashi said bluntly. “It’s fine. It’s going to be okay.”

Bokuto cried in earnest, sobbing into the phone. “I’m so unhappy with her.”

“I know you are. But we’ll fix it, I promise.”

Bokuto sniffled loudly. “Why are you being so nice to me, Akaashi? I’ve been such a jerk to you lately.”

Akaashi thought about it. There were a lot of things he could say.  _ Because you’re my best friend. Because I love you. Because you’ve earned it, time and time again, by making me happier than anyone else could. _

What he said was, “Because you deserve it, Bokuto-san. You deserve a happy life. Whatever it takes, we’re going to make that happen, okay?”

On the other end of the line, Bokuto exhaled. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, blanket apology for Kuroo's behaviour in this fic. I needed someone to be the well-meaning but extremely misguided friend, and Provocation Expert Kuroo Tetsurou fit the bill. 
> 
> Second -- what the fuck is Bokuto's natural hair colour? I have been back and forth on this. His roots are black, but his eyebrows are silver! What are you doing, Bokuto-san!?


	4. Chapter 4

Akaashi woke up late the next morning to a text from Bokuto: _on the train home now!_ Akaashi smiled, remembering their conversation from the night before. Bokuto was going to leave Yuna. Things were going to be okay.

He pried himself from his bed and went into the living room. Beer cans and takeout food containers covered every surface. Kuroo lay sprawled on the couch, his long limbs dangling off the sides. His hair had reached levels of bedhead previously unknown to humankind. He grunted at Akaashi when he opened the window above Kuroo’s head to air the place out.

“Why are you sleeping here?” Akaashi asked.

“Kenma stole my bed. He’s somehow taking up the whole thing. This couch is so uncomfortable.” Kuroo sat up and cracked his neck. “Why do you look so well-rested?”

“I only had one beer.”

“Right, and you went to bed early. Guess my whining wasn’t fun to listen to, huh?”

“It wasn’t.” Akaashi went to the kitchen and pulled ingredients from the cupboard. “But I stayed in my room because I was on the phone with Bokuto.”

Kuroo sat up straighter. “I thought he was on vacation.”

“He was.” Akaashi started the rice cooker. “Kuroo, he said he’s going to break up with Yuna.”

“No way.”

“That’s what he said.”

Kuroo let out a low whistle. “Fuck, but he’s still so pissed at me.”

“So make it up to him. Be supportive this time. For real.”

Kuroo nodded vigorously. “Dude, this is so good.”

“It is,” Akaashi agreed. “Do you want breakfast? I’ll make enough for both of us.”

“Really?”

“Consider it your birthday present.”

“Cheap gift, but thanks.”

Kuroo’s bedroom door flew open. Kenma appeared, one hand clamped over his mouth. He ran faster than Akaashi had ever seen into the bathroom. A retching noise that killed Akaashi’s appetite came soon after.

“Guess it can’t all be good news,” Kuroo said. He followed Kenma into the bathroom.

*

Akaashi was not expecting Bokuto to break up with Yuna immediately after they got home, but when he still hadn’t heard from him by the evening, he texted him: _Are you okay?_

Bokuto’s reply came quickly: _yea yea!! See you at practice tomorro!_

Bokuto was all smiles the next morning; he even got to practice early. “Morning, Akaashi!”

“Good morning, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi beckoned Bokuto closer and lowered his voice. “So, did you do it?”

“Do what?”

Akaashi stared at him. “Break up with Yuna.”

“Um… no. But it’s okay! I feel way better now. We talked for a really long time yesterday. She didn’t even realize that I was upset! She said she’s gonna work on being nicer to me, and then she made me a really good dinner, and—”

“Bokuto-san. Less than forty-eight hours ago, you told me she made you unhappy.” Akaashi struggled for words. “What about everything she’s done to you? What— what about your hair!?”

“She apologized for that! I know things have been bad, I’m not saying they haven’t… but she really seems like she wants to try. So I want to give her a chance, you know?”

Akaashi clenched his jaw. Sometimes, he wished Bokuto wasn’t so damn altruistic. 

“If that’s what you want, Bokuto-san.” It killed him to accept it, but he had to. “I’ll be here for you if you change your mind, or even if you don’t.”

Bokuto grinned. “Thanks, Akaashi. I knew you’d understand.”

Less than a week later, Bokuto called Akaashi in tears again. He had ordered dinner for himself and Yuna, and she had decided it wasn’t healthy enough and had thrown it away. She still ate her portion, but he had to make his own dinner at home. Bokuto was convinced that she was a terrible person, and he promised Akaashi he’d break up with her as soon as he got off the phone. And yet, the next morning, Akaashi heard the same story as last week: she apologized, and she promised to change. Akaashi knew she never would.

“Can’t we just, like, kidnap him?” Kuroo asked, when Akaashi told him what had happened.

“Have you learned nothing? Bokuto needs to make his own decision to leave. We can’t force him.”

Kuroo huffed. “Yeah, I know. Just… isn’t there anything we can do for him?”

Akaashi glanced around the living room. “Maybe.”

The next time Bokuto came crying to him — this week, it was during practice — Akaashi had more than comfort to give. “I got you something. It’s not here, but I can show you.”

Bokuto frowned at the picture Akaashi showed him on his phone. “A couch?”

“We got it to replace the old one in the apartment,” Akaashi explained. “It pulls out into a bed. Now, whenever you’re ready to leave, you’ll have a comfortable place to sleep.”

“Wow, Akaashi, that’s— you’re such a good friend.”

Akaashi turned away, pretending to rummage through his bag. “Kuroo’s actually the one who paid for it,” he said. He didn’t glance back to see Bokuto’s reaction. He hoped it was good.

*

Three weeks later, a few days before the winter semester began in January, Akaashi woke to someone pounding on the door.

He checked the clock. It was a little after one a.m.; he’d only been asleep for an hour. He was wary of the banging at first, until he heard Bokuto’s voice in the hall. “Akaashi?”

Akaashi unlocked the door, and there was Bokuto, covered in snow. He wasn’t crying, though flakes of snow clung to his eyelashes. He just looked stunned.

“I broke up with her,” he said.

“Really?”

“Really. It’s over.”

Akaashi threw himself at Bokuto and hugged him until his arms tired out.

He brought Bokuto inside and wrapped him in blankets. He brewed hot cocoa for both of them, making it as rich and creamy as possible, then joined him on the couch.

“Is Kuroo here?” Bokuto asked.

Akaashi shook his head. “He’s at his family’s house. He went for dinner, but then it started snowing, so he decided to sleep there.” Akaashi took a sip of his cocoa. “He’d probably come back, though, if I tell him you’re here.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just see him tomorrow.” Bokuto downed the remainder of his hot chocolate in one gulp. “That was really good.”

“Thanks.” Akaashi offered Bokuto the rest of his own cup, pushing it into his hands when Bokuto tried to refuse. “Please take it, there’s always more. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Maybe not tonight.” Bokuto finished off Akaashi’s cup. “I’m pretty tired.”

“Let’s get some sleep.”

Akaashi pulled out the couch for Bokuto and grabbed a pillow and more blankets from the cupboard. He’d kept Bokuto’s old sheets, so he made up the bed with those. He bade Bokuto goodnight and headed for his own room.

Bokuto caught his wrist. “Wait. Will you— will you stay? Not all night, just—”

Akaashi’s face softened. “Of course I will.” He retrieved his pillow from his bed and put it next to Bokuto’s. They both lay down, their noses inches apart. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

*

Akaashi woke up alone the next morning. He panicked, thinking Bokuto had gone back to Yuna, somehow slipping out in the middle of the night without Akaashi noticing. Then the toilet flushed and Bokuto came strolling out of the bathroom, stretching his hands over his head.

“You’re still here,” Akaashi said, relieved.

“Yup.”

“Do you still want to be here?”

Bokuto gave him a small smile. “Definitely.”

A key turned in the door. Kuroo came in, nodding at Akaashi before bending down to unlace his boots. He didn’t see Bokuto until he stood up.

They stared at each other, unmoving. “Bokuto-san is going to be staying with us for a while,” Akaashi said.

Kuroo slowly broke into a grin. He ran forward, crashing into Bokuto hard enough that Bokuto took a step backward. He blinked down at Kuroo with surprise, then wrapped his arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” Kuroo mumbled, his face buried in Bokuto’s sweater. “I’m so fucking sorry. I missed you so much.”

“It’s okay,” Bokuto said. “I missed you, too.”

*

The next few weeks were not easy.

The first problem was that, when Bokuto left Yuna’s apartment, he didn’t bring anything but the clothes on his back and a toothbrush.

“Akaashi and I can go get your stuff!” Kuroo volunteered. Ever since Bokuto moved in with them, Kuroo was his number one supporter, cooking him meals and helping him with his homework and making sure he was always entertained.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Akaashi said. “It’s probably better to send someone with a little less history with her.”

So Bokuto made a list of what he needed — it was sadly short, considering how much he’d had when he moved in — and Akaashi roped a few guys from the volleyball team into going to get it. They came back with most of the things on the list, though a few — including Bokuto’s favourite “Way of the Ace” t-shirt — had mysteriously disappeared.

The second problem was that Yuna refused to let Bokuto go easily. She texted him incessantly, and when Bokuto stopped answering, she called him instead. After two weeks, Bokuto decided he was ready to block her number. Akaashi encouraged him to do it, though he wondered if it might make her escalate things. He had read online that the most dangerous time in an abusive relationship is right _after_ the victim leaves, and while he didn’t think Bokuto was in any physical danger, he still didn’t want him getting hurt.

It happened a week after Bokuto blocked her calls. Yuna showed up at volleyball practice.

They had finished practicing and were cleaning up the court when she appeared in the doorway. Akaashi had his back to the door, but he saw the colour drain for Bokuto’s face.

“You don’t have to talk to her,” Akaashi said. “I will make her leave if that’s what you want.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I’ll go. Just don’t leave without me, okay?” 

Akaashi wasn’t going anywhere. He stared across the gym the entire time they talked, hoping Yuna could see the threat in his eyes. The conversation lasted five minutes, and then Bokuto was back, stricken-looking but unharmed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Akaashi couldn’t help himself. “You’re not getting back together with her, are you?!”

Bokuto laughed. “No, don’t worry.” He looked around the gym; one of the nets was still up on the far side. “You wanna keep practicing for a bit?”

“Sure,” Akaashi said. It had been a long time since Bokuto had asked that.

He set for Bokuto for five minutes, then ten. Bokuto’s spikes were shaky at first, but he soon found his rhythm. Akaashi was used to watching Bokuto work through emotions on the court; he knew when Bokuto was about to tell him what happened before he opened his mouth.

“She asked me to get back together with her,” he said, after landing an impressive cross-shot. “She, like, begged me to.”

Akaashi tossed him another ball.

“But when I said no” — _smack!_ He hit a line shot this time — “she got really mad, and said all this mean stuff.”

“Like what?”

Akaashi sent him another toss, but he caught the ball instead of hitting it, squeezing it between his hands. “Like that I’m worthless, and stupid, and that I’d never find anyone else who loved me. Sorry, was that too much?”

Akaashi realized his mouth was hanging open. “No, it’s okay! I mean, it’s horrible, and I can’t believe she said that, but— you can tell me these things. I’m never going to judge you for it. I just… I can’t imagine how awful that must feel. What did you say?”

“I asked her to leave,” Bokuto said. “I had to tell her like three times before she actually left.”

“I’m proud of you, Bokuto-san. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“Thanks. Hey, um, I’m kinda tired. Do you wanna stop for today?”

“Sure. Would you like to go get something to eat with me?”

“Can it be ice cream? Because I really want some ice cream right now.”

Akaashi snorted. “Sure, Bokuto-san.”

*

Once Bokuto started talking about Yuna and the abuse, he couldn’t stop. All the nasty details came out, some that Akaashi knew or suspected, and some that he didn’t.

“She was so nice when we first met,” Bokuto said. “She told me all the time how awesome she thought I was. Then she started saying mean things, too. She’d yell at me, and call me names, but she’d apologize right after and act like nothing was wrong. It was so confusing. And then she talked me into moving in with her, and everything just got worse.”

She told him daily how stupid he was, and either guilted him into studying or yelled at him until he did it. To no one’s surprise, his grades got worse because he was so stressed out, which made her push him harder.

When he got benched at volleyball because he was tired, she yelled at him again. If he wasn’t good at volleyball, what was he good for? With the pressure she put on him, and her restricting his food to the point where she got mad if he put sugar in his coffee, he stopped enjoying the thing he loved most. Volleyball became a chore, a job.

“And she never liked that I’m bi,” Bokuto confided to Kuroo and Akaashi. “She thought I was flirting with everyone I talked to, even you guys. She hadn’t, um, had sex with as many people as me, and made me feel guilty about it, like I was gross or something. She called me a slut a few times.”

“Holy fuck!” Kuroo exploded. “If she was a dude, I’d be kicking her ass right now. I bet I can get a girl to do it. I have Tora’s sister’s number. Or maybe one of your managers from high school, they always loved Bo—”

“Kuroo,” Akaashi said. “Please shut up.”

The list went on and on. Bokuto was too loud, too messy, too moody. He partied too hard. He didn’t take things seriously. He spent too much time with his friends. Just when Akaashi thought he’d heard it all, Bokuto would remember a new insult she’d thrown at him. It made Akaashi feel sick to his stomach to think about how much Bokuto had been through.

He didn’t tell them what happened the night he left, though, until he’d been out of her reach for a month. Akaashi was still sleeping on the couch with him most nights, whenever Bokuto asked him to, or even when he just seemed sad. They kept their distance, lying just close enough for their knees to bump under the covers.

“We had a fight,” Bokuto said. His hair was growing back; it fell into his face, obscuring his eyes. “I don’t even really remember how it started. I forgot to wash the dishes or something, and she was yelling at me, and I asked her to stop but she wouldn’t. She just kept yelling.” A tear ran down his cheek. Akaashi reached out and wiped it away.

“I asked her why she was always so mean to me, and she said— she said it was because I deserved it. She said I was a bad person, and that I didn’t deserve for anyone to be nice to me.” His tears fell faster, now, and Akaashi cried with him. He wished he could find a way to take some of Bokuto’s pain into himself, even just for a little while.

“When she said that, I remembered what you said the night I called you from the beach,” Bokuto continued through his sobs. “You said I deserved to be happy.” He looked up at Akaashi, his cheeks stained with tears. “It was because of you that I was brave enough to leave.”

He reached out, and Akaashi met him halfway, closing the distance between them. He let Bokuto bury his face in his chest, his own tears falling on the top of Bokuto’s head.

“It wasn’t because of me,” Akaashi whispered. “You did it all by yourself.”

While he held Bokuto, Akaashi made a decision, a promise to himself. He was going to give Bokuto all the happiness he deserved, no matter what it took.


	5. Chapter 5

“Can you stop moving? I’m going to mess it up.”

Bokuto whipped his head around. “Sorry! I’m sorry!”

Kenma sighed deeply. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be sorry. Just try to stay still.”

Bokuto sat as still as possible on the edge of the bathtub as Kenma painted platinum-coloured dye into his hair. Akaashi and Kuroo watched from the hall.

Three months had passed since Bokuto showed up on their doorstep. He became more and more like his old self every day. Now, he was going to look like himself, too, once the mess of foil and clips on his head was removed. 

“You’re pretty good at this,” Kuroo said to Kenma. Akaashi suspected Kenma was taking a lot more care with Bokuto’s hair than he did with his own. “Maybe you should become a hairstylist.”

Kenma frowned. “Too much small talk.” He finished the last streak, above Bokuto’s ear, and set down the pot of dye. “It’s done. You have to wait twenty-five minutes before you wash it.”

Bokuto ogled his foiled head in the mirror. “Thanks, Kenma!”

They passed the requisite waiting time watching a rerun of Naruto, Bokuto’s leg bouncing with anticipation the entire time. Kenma wasn’t interested in helping with the rinse — Bokuto tended to shake his head like a dog when wet — so Akaashi did it for him, picking out the foils and spraying him with the showerhead as he bent over the tub.

“The floor hurts,” Bokuto whined. “I should have worn my knee pads!”

“I’m almost finished,” Akaashi assured him.

When the water ran clean, he wrapped a towel around Bokuto’s head and helped him stand. Bokuto let Akaashi wring out his hair, but when he tried to remove the towel, Bokuto yelped. “I wanna put it up before anyone sees!” Akaashi left him alone in the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, Bokuto emerged with his hair glued into two points on either side of his head. Kenma had done a good job; he looked exactly like he did before.

He swung the towel over his head like a lasso, yelling, “Hey, hey, hey!” before flinging it at Akaashi. “I’m back!”

*

“When are you going to ask Bokuto out?”

Akaashi flinched. Kuroo leaned in the doorway of Akaashi’s room. Bokuto, thankfully, was in class. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Akaashi. It doesn’t suit you.” Kuroo sat on the bed, uninvited. “You two have been inseparable lately. If I didn’t know it was because of tingly, romantic feelings, I’d be jealous.”

Kuroo wasn’t wrong. They had been spending more time together lately, even more than they had in high school. But nothing had happened between them, not yet.

“I want to. I’m just worried. I don’t know if he’s ready yet.”

Kuroo snorted. “Oh, he’s ready.”

“How do you know?”

“I know,” Kuroo said,” because he begged me to drop hints to you about it. So this is me, dropping a hint.”

“Subtle.”

“Just do it soon, okay? It’ll make him happy.”

“I will,” Akaashi promised. He really, really wanted to. But it wasn’t as easy as Kuroo made it sound. There was something important he had to do first.

*

“You’re moving out!?” Bokuto sat on the couch, gaping at Akaashi like he had told him his dog was dying.

“Don’t freak out, okay? Let me explain.” 

“Did I do something wrong?”

Akaashi laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but stopped when he realized Bokuto was serious. “God, no! You didn’t do anything wrong at all, Bokuto-san. I’m leaving because you need a place to sleep that isn’t a couch.”

“But I can move! You shouldn’t have to be the one to go!”

“No way. You’re staying here. I’ve already found a new place; it’s five minutes away and I get the keys on Friday. This was always your apartment, Bokuto-san. I was just keeping it safe while you were gone.”

“Akaashi… that’s really nice.”

“Um, yeah.” Akaashi cleared his throat. This was the hard part. “I was also hoping, now that I’m moving out… I mean, I didn’t want to ask you to start a relationship when we were living together. I don’t think that would be healthy, especially after what you’ve been through…” God, he was rambling.

“Akaashi. Are you trying to ask me out?”

“That is what I was trying to do, yes. Would you like to go on a date with me, Bokuto-san?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. Okay, good.” Akaashi hadn’t realized how nervous he was, but he suddenly felt very relieved. “This will be good.”

“Can we go right now?”

“What? No! I want to take you somewhere nice. Let’s go on Saturday, after I move, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Finally!” Kuroo yelled from his bedroom.

“Shut up!” Bokuto yelled back.

*

Akaashi arrived early to pick Bokuto up on Saturday. He had planned what he thought was a great date: dinner at one of Bokuto’s favourite restaurants, followed by a walk in a nearby park, where the cherry blossoms were still blooming. They’d finish up with dessert from the same bakery the cheesecake had come from.

He forgot about all of it when Kuroo answered the door. “He’s in his room,” Kuroo said. “He’s, uh, kind of freaking out.”

Akaashi rushed past Kuroo into his old bedroom. He found Bokuto on the bed, half-dressed and breathing heavily. “Bokuto-san?”

“Akaashi, hi!” His voice was full of fake cheerfulness. “Sorry, I’m almost ready.” He jumped up and rushed around the room, grabbing things at random.

Akaashi took his hand and led him back to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m—”

“Don’t just say you’re fine. Talk to me.”

Bokuto exhaled. “I’m sorry. I’m really nervous. I don’t wanna say something stupid and ruin the date.”

“Nothing you say is stupid. It’s going to be okay.” Akaashi twisted his fingers together. “I’m nervous, too, you know.”

Bokuto squinted at him. “You are?”

“Yeah. I, um— I made us dinner reservations, but I think I’d rather do something more laidback. Let’s just go to the izakaya around the corner like normal, okay?”

Bokuto nodded, clearly relieved. “Okay.”

The date started off well. They sat on the same side of their usual booth, watching a soccer game on TV and eating karaage. It felt like any other day, except for the fact that their hands were linked under the table.

Everything was fine until Japan scored a goal. Bokuto jumped up to celebrate, which shook the table and knocked Akaashi’s beer all over him.

“I’m so sorry!” Bokuto grabbed their napkins, dabbing at the front of Akaashi’s shirt.

“It’s okay.” The cold liquid had startled Akaashi, but his shirt was black, and his beer had been mostly empty.

“It’s not okay. I fucked up! I’m really, really sorry!” Bokuto continued to paw at his shirt. Akaashi took his hands to stop him, only to realize that they were shaking.

“Bokuto-san. Hey. Look at me.”

Bokuto stilled. When he looked up, his eyes were full of fear.

“I’m not mad at you, and you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But—”

“But nothing. It was an accident. You don’t need to apologize. I’m going to go dry my shirt in the bathroom, and then we’re going to continue enjoying our date.”

Akaashi returned from the bathroom to find a fresh beer on the table.

“I bought you another one,” Bokuto said. “To make up for it.”

“That was not necessary, but it was really sweet of you,” Akaashi said. When Bokuto still didn’t seem convinced, Akaashi slid closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He meant it to be a friendly gesture, but as soon as his lips touched Bokuto’s skin, something deep inside him sparked. He pulled back a few inches, until his breath mingled with Bokuto’s. “Can I—”

Bokuto didn’t let him finish. He pressed his mouth to Akaashi’s, just once, just enough to make Akaashi need more.

“Want to split this beer and get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

Akaashi paid their bill and led Bokuto out. He was tempted to take them right back to Bokuto’s apartment, or, better yet, his own, which was blessedly Kuroo-free. But as much as his body ached for Bokuto’s, he knew they had to take it slow. 

They ended up in the park Akaashi had originally planned to visit. They found a bench in an alcove with a small pond, where no one else could see them. Akaashi took Bokuto’s face in his hands and kissed him desperately, pouring into it all the adoration for Bokuto that he’d been saving up.

*

Three weeks later, despite his desire to take it slow, Akaashi found himself half-naked in Bokuto’s bed. This time, the heavy breathing was for all the right reasons.

“Akaashi,  _ fuck,” _ Bokuto swore. Akaashi rolled his hips again, drawing a moan from Bokuto’s lips. “Can we—  _ ahh. _ Do you want to...?” He fingered the band of Akaashi’s boxers, pulling them down just enough to slide his thumbs over Akaashi’s hip bones.

Akaashi stilled above him. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Unless you don’t want to.”

Akaashi leaned down and kissed him messily. “I want to, very badly,” he said against Bokuto’s lips. “How do you want me?” 

“Any way. Whatever you want.”

Akaashi pulled back, licking his lips. “What I want is for you to tell me, Bokuto-san.” He wanted to make this good for Bokuto, wanted him to feel comfortable.

Bokuto hesitated, then said, “On your back.” Akaashi shivered. “If that’s okay! I just want to see you.”

Akaashi obeyed, lying down on the bed. “I want to see you, too.”

When Bokuto pushed into him a few minutes later, Akaashi saw nothing but stars. Even after their thorough preparation, it was a stretch. “Is it too much?”

“No, it’s good. Just give me a second.” It wasn’t the stretch Akaashi needed to get used to so much as the fact that they were actually doing this, that  _ Bokuto  _ was inside of him. He had a wild thought that he wanted to tell his sixteen-year-old self about this. He’d probably die on the spot. “You can move.”

Bokuto fucked him slowly until Akaashi urged him to speed up. “You’re not going to break me,” he whispered. Bokuto bit his lip and thrusted faster. A loud moan escaped his mouth, and he brought his hand up to cover it. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Akaashi pulled his hand away. “I want to hear you.” 

When his first, tentative moan made Akaashi’s eyes roll back, Bokuto let himself be louder, filling the room with his voice. Every sound went straight to Akaashi’s gut.

Akaashi knew how much stamina Bokuto had, and that he wasn’t likely to get tired. But Akaashi wanted him to enjoy this as much as possible. “Let me get on top of you,” he said.

He gently pushed Bokuto against the pillows and straddled him, sinking back onto his cock. He rode him gently at first, then faster, learning what made Bokuto moan and repeating it, trying to drive him crazy.

Bokuto moved his hips under Akaashi, pushing deeper into him. He hit the right angle, and Akaashi yelped, throwing his head back.

“Was that okay?” Akaashi opened his eyes. Bokuto was biting his lip, his brow furrowed.

Akaashi slowed his movements and pressed his palm to Bokuto’s cheek. “It was perfect, Bokuto-san, you feel perfect—” Bokuto slammed into him again and Akaashi screamed, his thighs shaking as he sped up again, chasing that feeling.

Akaashi kept talking, though Bokuto’s moans grew so loud that he wasn’t sure Bokuto could hear him. “You’re incredible, Bokuto-san. You make me feel so good. Fuck— you’re so good—”

“Akaashi, I’m gonna—” Bokuto came inside him, his fingers digging into Akaashi’s ass as he held him close. Akaashi stroked himself once, twice, and then he was coming, too, across Bokuto’s stomach, still babbling nonsense about how wonderful Bokuto was. He collapsed forward, his chest heaving as he and Bokuto both caught their breath.

Akaashi cleaned them off with the sheet. He’d do Bokuto’s laundry the next day if he had to. He’d do basically anything for him after that.

It was only when he finished and lay down next to him that he noticed Bokuto’s eyes shining.

“Bokuto-san, are you okay?”

Bokuto wiped his eyes, catching the tears before they fell. “Was that, um. Was that good?”

“Bokuto-san, that was the best sex I’ve had in my life.”

Bokuto gave him a watery smile. “Me too.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Sorry,” Bokuto said automatically. Akaashi wished he would stop apologizing for things that weren’t his fault. “I’m really happy, just… all those nice things you said to me, they were a lot. I’m not used to it yet.”

“To what?”

“To you liking me.”

Akaashi’s breath caught in his throat. “I’ve always liked you, Bokuto-san. Since the day I met you. Do you know why?”

Bokuto shook his head.

Akaashi rested his chin on Bokuto’s chest. “Because you are really, really easy to like. You’re fun, and funny, and sweet. You’re wise, and you’re helpful, and you care so much about your friends. You’re the most selfless person I know.

“And, yes, sometimes you’re messy. Sometimes you get loud when you’re excited. And honestly, I’m still thinking about the time you ate the Pocky from under this bed, because that was just gross, Bokuto-san.” Tears rolled down Bokuto’s cheeks, but he laughed in spite of them. “But I wouldn’t change a thing about you. I like you exactly the way you are.”

Bokuto sobbed, his hands coming up to cover his face. “You’re so perfect, Akaashi,” he whispered.

Akaashi leaned forward and kissed him on the head. “I think you’re perfect, too.”

It occurred to Akaashi, as he pulled the blanket over them, snuggling close to Bokuto, that this would have been the moment he fell in love with him, had he not already felt it for the last five years.

*

It seemed a little pointless to have a housewarming party for Bokuto when he a) had already lived in this apartment and b) had moved back in almost six months ago. But Kuroo insisted, not just on the party, but on the timing, too, the first week of July. He said he had a special surprise.

It was a proper party this time, with more cheesecake than anyone could eat. Tsukki couldn’t make it, but Bokuto and Akaashi’s teammates from university came, along with a few Fukurodani alumni. Kenma also attended, though he bowed out early and hid in Kuroo’s room. He still hadn’t recovered from Kuroo’s birthday.

Bokuto was the life of the party from start to finish, goofing off with his teammates and messing with Kuroo’s hair and ostentatiously making out with Akaashi at every opportunity. He was happy, as happy as he had been before Yuna came into his life, and maybe even happier. Akaashi felt glad to have played a small part in making him feel that way.

And then there was a knock at the door, and all hell broke loose.

“HINATA!” Bokuto screamed, bowling over the other guests to get to the door. A head of red hair went flying as Bokuto scooped him off his feet.

“Bokuto-san!”

“How did you get here?”

Hinata grinned. “Kuroo-san asked me when I was coming to visit from Brazil, so I told him, and he said you were having a party that week, so here I am!” He gazed around the apartment, taking everyone in. “Bokuto-san, you have so many friends! Hi, Akaashi-san! Hi, Komi-san!”

“Whoa,” one of their university teammates said. “Who is this dude!?”

Bokuto beamed with pride. “This, my friends, is Hinata Shouyou, my volleyball protégé! I know he’s tiny, but trust me, he could wipe the court with all you guys!”

“Wow, Bokuto-san, are these guys on your team?! That’s so cool! Do they know about the time when…” Hinata launched into a story about some play Bokuto had made in high school. Akaashi had been  _ in _ that game and he didn’t remember it, but Hinata sure did.

“Bokuto’s doing a lot better these days.” Kuroo had sidled up beside Akaashi in the commotion. “Mostly thanks to you. But I thought, hey, who could give Bokuto the biggest ego boost of all?”

Hinata was now illustrating his story by imitating one of Bokuto’s spikes, with a lot of  _ whooshes! _ and  _ pows!  _ added in. “You could not have been more right,” Akaashi said.

“I hope it makes up for some of the dumb shit I did.” Kuroo’s bedroom door opened, a face poking around it. “Oh yeah. I might have had another reason for inviting Hinata, too.”

Kenma’s mouth dropped open. “Shouyou…?”

Hinata stopped talking mid-sentence and spun around. “KENMA!” Hinata threw himself at him, knocking them both to the floor.

Bokuto looked around until he found Kuroo. “I think he broke him!” Akaashi and Kuroo made their way across the room to join them.

Bokuto slipped his arm around Akaashi easily, tugging him close. “This is the best party ever.”

“It is really fun.” Akaashi leaned a little closer, to whisper in Bokuto’s ear. “You know everyone is here because of you, right? Everyone here loves you and supports you. We’re never—” He broke off.  _ “I _ am never, ever going to let anyone hurt you again.”

“Akaashi…” Bokuto sniffled. Akaashi kissed him to distract him. Kissing was way better than crying.

Hinata jumped up, leaving Kenma on his back on the floor. “Whoa, what! Did you guys just kiss? Are you dating?!”

Bokuto grinned. “We sure are.”

Hinata gaped at Kuroo and Kenma, then turned back to Bokuto and Akaashi. “WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading to the end, and a big thank you to everyone who has been commenting! You can find me at kyrstin.tumblr.com if you'd like to chat.


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